In slower times, I’m a little more unsure about what to do with my free time. I don’t know how to gauge if I need relaxation or excitement, nostalgia or adventure. So now that my social life has gone from seated and semi-reclined to full-on, quad-burning sprint, well, at least I know to use those free moments to catch my breath.
One of these days I’m going to learn to use a pocket calendar of some sort, too, I swear to god. Trying to remember my plans (if I have any) for any given evening is like trying to tap into some nascent psychic ability. “I’m seeing…blue…and the letter ‘M’…and new beginnings.” I spent three days last week insisting to CCB that we already had plans for March 27, though I had no idea what those plans were—or if they involved a fancy dinner party or camping trip or sporting event or what. (Psst, it’s Chillounge.)
If I had a calendar, the next few weeks would be scribbled appointments every which way—especially with the beginning of a new kickball season and the advent of a Wednesday-night women’s hockey clinic. Then you add in, well, things like Chillounge, our March issue “Bachelor” party on Wednesday, CCB’s parents coming down for a visit, a weekend hockey tournament in Brandon and a gazillion other things I can’t think of right now. I’m seeing…March 26, too…and something next weekend…I have no idea.
Anyway, I’m thinking about all of this because, thanks to our crazy Saturday night this past weekend, I had no qualms about a chilling out for the rest of the weekend, including Friday night dinner (at Winghouse) and a movie (at home), as well as a mid-Sunday movie and a nap. Because Saturday night we actually had to pack for our evening out. Our Saturday night required luggage. First was Club Forty—though noticeably scaled back from last year, still a good time. (And can I just say, something about leaving a hangar and walking to the restroom trailer on the tarmac is pretty freaking cool. Like, top five places to pee in Sarasota, seriously.) Also: cornhole tournament! Creative, active and “cornhole” is fun to say. Cornhole cornhole cornhole.
We only planned to spend an hour or so there, though, just because we had other places to be. But on our way out, CCB decided to drop $50 at the blackjack table, and I found myself trying to look like I knew what I’m doing (hint: I didn’t)—especially hard when you’re struggling to do math in your head. But in the race to be our vacation destination, Las Vegas has started a late charge from the back.
From there we went to Little J’s house in Sarasota to change: Rock Stars Kim and Kreg have been planning their 90s party since 2002, so this was not one to be missed. And I like the way they throw parties: Whereas CCB and I just hope a bunch of people show up and mingle and maybe create some random craziness, Rock Star Kim’s parties build a whole theme around costumes, refreshments, décor and activities. And the 90s party was no disappointment: An incredible turnout, with costumes ranging from approximations of 90s style to awesome recreations of pop culture characters and headline-makers. Kreg had collected six hours' worth of 90s hits that were pumped through a house-wide sound system (and outdoors, too). The activities? Open mic (a la Central Perk) and a Real World-style video “confessional” (can’t wait to see how that footage turns out). Check out the pics; I’d call that a success.
CCB and Little J as Jay and Silent Bob. (Little J got his gorgeous locks courtesy of a princess wig. I love costume parties.)
The backyard fire pit scene.
Scully and Mulder.
Included in this shot: Monica Lewinsky, the Soup Nazi, Marsha Clark and
Judge Lance Ito, Garth and the bad guy from Scream.